


i'll come when you ask me (fast train, make my eyes blue)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Disassociation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, canon-typical body trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Bucky? </em>he says, and his voice is soft, it's always soft, it's always your name in his voice even when it's not your name,<em> who the hell is Bucky</em>, you're a construct made out of sinew and metal and Steve's voice saying your name, <em>my name is Bucky</em>, you exist when he looks at you.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Bucky?</em></p><p> </p><p><em>I'm good</em>, you say, you're good, you went someplace else but you're good, and you're on your back held down and his face is there. Was he always so bright? He shines like a god you saw in museums like the sun like gold in your vision and you think about him little, fine bones like a bird, and he could still hold you down even then, press you flat on your back with nothing but weight like feathers on your hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll come when you ask me (fast train, make my eyes blue)

You're on a train.

You're on a train, and it's roaring in your ears like blood or your heartbeat or the ocean. You breathe, and you breathe, and you're falling.  _Steve_ , you say,  _Steve_ , and his hands aren't on yours, his hands aren't catching you, his hands-

You have a body, and you're in your body, and you're cold. Snow on your skin like frost growing over a windowpane. Your eyes are fogging up with your breath and you're cold and you're on your back on a table and on your back on a girder and on your back in the snow waiting to die and you-

 _Bucky_? he says, and his voice is soft, it's always soft, it's always your name in his voice even when it's not your name,  _who the hell is Bucky_ , you're a construct made out of sinew and metal and Steve's voice saying your name,  _my name is Bucky_ , you exist when he looks at you.

 _Bucky_?

 _I'm good_ , you say, you're good, you went someplace else but you're good, and you're on your back held down and his face is there. Was he always so bright? He shines like a god you saw in museums like the sun like gold in your vision and you think about him little, fine bones like a bird, and he could still hold you down even then, press you flat on your back with nothing but weight like feathers on your hips.

_You're good?_

_I'm good_.

His hands are on your hands, fleeting and hot, and one of your hands isn't your hand, one of your hands isn't, one of your hands isn't there and it hasn't been there for months and for seventy years all at once, but you feel the heat of his skin and you're in your body like it's yours, like you're not, sometimes, and you think you must be stripped open, flayed to the bone for all of his touch, and he strokes his palm down your sternum, tickles your ribs until you breathe and laugh and wriggle, and he's stern in a face you almost remember.

 _Don't move, Bucky_.

You're not moving, you're pinned by his gaze blue like an ocean, you went to the ocean one day, took a slow train to Montauk with a boy who looked up at you and smiled and your heart roared in your ears like the waves, and you're a scientist's monster and you're a weapon held in a vice that'll crush if you make the wrong move and you're a bomb waiting to explode. You're all of these things and none of them. Your whole body is an ache waiting to be touched, a bruise that hurts under his fingers, and you want and you want and you want.

 _Breathe for me_ , Steve says, and it catches in your chest, catches like a fire, and Steve's hands close like locks around your wrist and your throat and you fight with your body not to interpret this as a threat.  _Don't fight_ , you think,  _don't- it doesn't have to end in a fight_  and there's no pressure but his hands are so big, you remember them small, you remember his sharp bones, you remember taking him by the throat like this once but that wasn't you. There was an intruder in your body and you watched it do all these things. This is you, now, and you can tell your body what to do and it obeys like a good dog following orders, you were Hydra's dog of war for so long, you were winter and snow on your skin, you're on a  _train_ -

 _Do you trust me_ , he asks, leaning in all soft and earnest and golden-blue sun on the water like you saw from the train that New York summer and so beautiful it aches, and you trust him with your body even when you can't trust yourself with your body for all the betrayal until you lose yourself, and you swallow hard against the weight of his palm and you blink and blink and take a breath.

 _Do it_ , you say,  _Steve, do it_ , and you think about how you must have smiled, once, pinned on your back and Steve appearing, and you try it again, lips curving, and a breath stutters out of Steve like he's surprised all over again by you,  _Bucky?_ , eyes wide with recognition of someone you used to be, _you were my friend_ , you could be him again, this is you trying, this is, you _remember_ this-

His body is in your body and you lick your lips and breathe into it and it aches a little, letting someone in, and this is surrender, you've been surrendering over and over and you  _don't do that anymore_ and you can feel Steve's warmth all summer sun burning you up.

_You're good?_

_I'm good._

The train you're on is carrying your body to the end of something and you're not driving it, you're riding the train but you don't know where it might be going, it's fast and it's loud and you don't know whether this is Steve's heart or yours but your body feels it like a thunderclap, and Steve's mouth is very close to yours and you breathe his breath and bite your lip and arch up into his hands and this is the first time, you're in a narrow bed in a walk-up and it's sticky hot summer heat and Steve holds you down like he knows he'll be big someday and there's a storm in the air and you think you'll never be cold again.

 _Bucky_ \- Steve says, bites out like a sob, and you want to hear your name like that again, you want to hear him breathe you into being until you're a real person again,  _your name is Bucky_.

You don't know how to ask for what you want. You're on a train, you're with him to the end of the line, where does this train go this time, is the track linear or cyclic or a world pasted over the top of a world built from old memories, Steve's big and he's small and you're always the same size, and there was a time when he was gone and you were here or someplace else or someone else and you didn't know you could have been this person once, or again, or all at once. The train roars.

_I want-_

_I know you do. Just hold on_.

His fingers are interlaced with yours, your hand above your head, and you're falling down but Steve is catching you,  _take my hand_ , and you're holding on like he says, you follow orders like he says, he never made sergeant but they made him a captain, you took Steve's orders before either of you were ever soldiers, and you close your eyes dark like you're going through a tunnel.

 _Look at me, Bucky_ , he says and it's an order, and you're so good, you're being so good, your body is all an ache with it, and Steve smiles and you feel it like falling.

 _There you are_.

There you are, here you are, this is where you are in this time and this place and a hundred other times too, and it's so tender, the way Steve discovers you again, your memories peeking out shy from behind the door, they've been tucked away in a warm room safe from winter and the room looks like one you used to know, you took the couch cushions and put them on the floor once and Steve asleep had the softest mouth you'd ever seen and you thought about kissing him and then he woke up, blue eyes wide, and did it for you, his mouth on your mouth, and maybe he can see all this because he's smiling like he did back then, and he kisses you like he did back then, and maybe he's crying because his mouth tastes like salt like the ocean spray on your lips in the golden evening light and a train home.

**Author's Note:**

> title from fka twigs 'ache'
> 
> I'm over [on tumblr](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/) dying about these bucky barnes feelings, if you want to join me


End file.
